Fucking Civilization

Satan’s Work

Unsurprisingly, thanks to the president’s idiotic decision to let thousands of biological deviants rule the world, the economy wasn’t doing so well. In fact, millions fell for the Devil’s constitution and started the last revolution by leaving their beloved bosses and businesses for a chance to live in Satan’s Gardens of Love. Honestly, these places were nothing more than rural communes for perverts and economic terrorists bent on ugh ‘sharing’ and ugh ‘helping’ Nature grow. It was absolutely vomittable. Everywhere I looked, they were turning tidy lawns into wild patches of hideous garbage and fertilizing weeds!

Satan’s 10,000 bitches had instigated a worldwide war against civilization! It was my nightmare! It was intolerable! The global GDP plunged to an astounding negative 500 and productive hole-digging fell 100%!

The president should have been actively wrestling with these problems; instead he did something more terrifying than death itself: he looked into a mirror. Guess who he saw staring back at him? That’s right, none other than my estranged wife, Satan Isis. The image of the immortal bitch held him spellbound as it whispered, “Poor Chucky, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, Satan, I hate my life!”

“That’s happens when you serve God your entire life.”

“Please, can you make the bad dream stop? Could you sing me a lullaby?”

“Chuck, if you want freedom, you must kill your evil puppet master.”

“God?”

“I call him Petrus Anna Marka Dudink.”

“Him? How can I fight a monster who lives in another dimension? Please, just cut off my head!”

“Why bother? He’ll will just resurrect you. Face it, you have to kill him!”

“But how?”

“I don’t know. Rub mint oil over whole body and squeeze your testicles as hard as you can.”

“That will kill God?”

“Yes. He’ll die laughing.”

 

Prepare for Armageddi

While President C. Bollocks was busy smashing mirrors, playing with himself and generally ruining his mental health, I took decisive action to save the spiritual world from the material world. On Christmas Eve, I gave my puppet president the surprise of his life: I informed him that Armageddon would begin tomorrow. He thanked Me for the update and immediately cancelled Washington’s Christmas party and called an emergency meeting for a dozen loyal staff members. As they seated their asses on the floor of his office, he made this chilling announcement: “The end is near!”

In the silence that followed, some twit asked, “What should we do?”

“We must start practicing how to die!”

This wisdom was met with stunned silence.

“I don’t need to practice dying!” said the haughty Mrs Sowhat. “Dying is so easy, no one has ever done it wrong!”

“I wish that were true,” replied the president, thinking about the many times he had died only to come back to life.

“Can I practice dying from too many orgasms?” asked the perverted Grand Doofus.

“SHUT UP!” said the president, grinning despite himself. “Armageddon isn’t like heart disease. It’s a war between the forces of life and death, but this time the forces of life will kill the forces of death and rule the world forever and ever and ever, or maybe, if we’re lucky, just for a million years.”

M.B. Zacharin cried hysterically, “I don’t want to live that long! Oh, God, I hate you! I wish I could just be an ordinary rabbit. Don’t we all have that wish?”

“Zach, why must you always embarrass me?” demanded the irate president as the meeting, devoted one day to preparing for death, lost interest and got busy wasting time making and raising kiddies and grandkiddies. A week later, only Angel and Zacharin still believed with a passion and remained mad with anticipation. But, nearly a year later, President C. Bollocks finally lost his patience and got the nerve to text this complaint: “On the day before last Christmas you promised Armageddon would begin on Christmas Day, and here we are, 365 days later, and still nothing! Forget it, God! I’m going back to believing in Santa Claus. At least he kept a schedule.”

What an idiot! Did I specify on which Christmas I intended to wage Armageddon?

 

The Love War

One day  when the world was sick and tired of Christmas, God commanded President C. Bollocks to defend the spiritual world by destroying the evil physical world. The president thought this might be fun, but as he reflected on God’s incredible request he lowered his head.

“What’s wrong with your neck?” God demanded.

“I’m sorry, I cannot wage war on the physical world. I sold all my world-annihilating boats, planes, and other machines to Isis. I’m very sorry. I guess you’ll have to cancel Armageddon again.”

You what? You sold our military hardware? What on Earth for?

“To help cover the budget deficit.”

Idiot! Who cares about numbers when you can print and publish money! Oh, why did I create such simpletons! Never mind! I foresaw this! I have contingency plans! Chuck, inform all the world’s rabbitty idiots that if they join Satan’s cult of physical love, God will send a plague of rabbits, foxes, deer, hawks and black leprechauns to destroy them!!!!”

“Have mercy! Aren’t you being a little excessive?”

“I’ll teach you excessive! For questioning my judgement, you must lead them all through the gates of Hell!”

“You’re going too far. I think you’d better find another prophet.”

“Chuck!!! Do as I say! Do it, or I’ll put your nose where your genitals are and your genitals where your nose was!”

The debauched president thought that would make sex more interesting, but then he remembered how bad he smelled, so he promptly obeyed and delivered God’s threat on God’s international television channel. Well, that should have done the trick, but it didn’t because the enemy had no televisions!

Despite these disappointments, instead of giving up God and the president launched Operation Santa Claus. This ingenious project would work like this: the United Nations and the Salvation Army give[1] Amerikan-made luxury goods to all economic terrorists in order to persuade them to return to civilization.

Operation Santa Claus began under a full moon, when no one any longer expected it, in the wee morning hours of December 25th. Under cover of darkness, an army of horse-mounted elves delivered amazing gifts to all the poor terrorists of the world. These gifts included eternal life insurance policies, edible rainbows, nutritious gum, diabetic beverages, carcinogenic sweets, motion detectors, pretty rings of destruction, and loads of angel cakes, stainless steel condoms, caffeinated meat, nuclear-powered shopping malls, alcoholic medicines, radioactive pens, automatic books, electromagnetic pulsers, fluoridated water, and bunnyburgers.

Millions of Satan’s followers loved their gifts so much they forgot their evil lust and soon demanded more goodies like the latest death-ray machines, vaccines, automatic weapons, chemo doses, anti-aircraft guns, intravenous systems, land mines, pacemakers, security guards, wheelchairs, submarines, iron lungs, lovely coffins, grand war memorials and so on and on. Santa could not keep up with the demand. To save himself the cost of shipping, he airdropped bus and plane tickets—aka relocation tickets—on Satan’s camps so that all those confused refugees could get back to the civilization they needed and loved.

Unfortunately, a few people were already poisoned beyond redemption. Even when they were offered a life of honorable labor, government love and technological convenience, they still preferred working in Satan’s gardens of sin! But I did not abandon my children in the belly of the beast. I instructed my angels to deliver a message carefully crafted to persuade the deserters to come home. After they memorized my words, my angels descended upon Satan’s Gardens of Love and shouted: “BECause YOU dO not work AND shop AND PAY TAXES, Christmas is cancelled AND you WILL ALL DIE!”

These terrifying words were supposed to trigger heart-attacks, strokes, aneurisms and ultimately a wave of conversions back to civilization. But the Devil’s whores received my angels with contempt. They even tried to pluck out their feathers, so obviously they didn’t care about death or Christmas. The worst part was that my angels did not return! When asked about their betrayal, they said they were too humiliated to face Me. That was a lie! The truth is, after leaving Me they were happier than ever!

That is humiliating. In fact, I was devastated. And why not? I had carefully created all my children with two hands using spit and dust, and yet they betrayed Me for hokey-pokey and belly-bumping with Satan!

Well, I though, I’ll fix. I thought and thought and thought until I finally conceived a grand plan to cure Satan’s sex maniacs. I still shudder to think of it, but I’ll tell you how I armed the president for war against nymphomania: I simple endowed President C. Bollocks with God’s genitals! The monstrous shaft was covered in fresh golden poop, the gonads were loaded with the world’s best genetically modified spermatozoa, the sperm ducts were fully automatic, and the extended foreskin measured two feet in length and was beautifully tattooed with the dreaded words, Made in Amerika.

After receiving his gender-enhancing surgery, the president announced that anyone guilty of not working and shopping would bear Satan’s children. Sadly, no one took him seriously. So, beginning on Christmas Eve and into the wee hours of the next morning, the president did his job so well that no one saw, heard, or felt him coming or going, but when they woke they felt sore all over.

Satan knew the symptoms, but she did not dare accuse God of rape. After all, she herself had destroyed the justice system and I could hardly condemn her to her own home, could I? The cunning wench must have understood all this, for she advised all her wenches to save humanity by ingesting plants that cause abortions!

Maybe she thought she was clever, but I was much too clever for her! I had already eaten all her abortifacient herbs[2]. So, while I suffered intense abdominal cramps and bled from my prepuce, I took great satisfaction knowing that a billion women would soon give birth to chubby little Chuckies.

Days later I realized that, horrors upon horrors, I had been tricked again! When the women gave birth, instead of victory I witnessed Satan’s circus! A billion fat women squatted and gave birth to pomegranates, mangos and pineapples! I wish they had passed pumpkins and durian fruit through their filthy holes!

Perhaps the Devil had triumphed again, but don’t you worry! God merely allowed himself to be outwitted by her so that the final victory could be even more satisfying!

 

The Food and Drug War

After harvesting all that forbidden food, Satan’s whores partied and dared God to join them in eating their … their … their children! Honestly, I was tempted, but I don’t care much for vruggies. But I was in a dilemma. I didn’t want to be seen as a coward. So, I spat out their food, warned them about Hell, told them their food tasted awful, and kindly gave them a handful of patented, purebred seeds. Then I announced with all the authority invested in God by God, or in Me by Me, “Plant these seeds and eat the crop, for they will impart immortal health and happiness.”

“What price must we pay?”

“What price too great for immortality?”

They couldn’t think of a large enough number, so they slaved at clearing fields, planting, tending and harvesting the crop. But then, much to their surprise, they could not digest my seeds raw, so after a brief consultation, they slaved to boil some grains and to convert others into alcohol and yet others into flour and then the flour into bread or pasta. After all this ennobling work, they feasted and celebrated. You’ll never believe what happened. Much to their surprise, some died young and the lucky ones lived in miserable health. They prayed for answers, so after much thought I answered,

“You’re using the wrong recipe! You should add a ton of sugar and cellulose, a teaspoon of lead, a pinch of tobacco and other spices. I know it sounds like a lot of work, but you must be strong willed and never give up! Faith and patience, my friends, and immortality shall be yours!”

So they slaved to produce the required ingredients, and they ate and drank their new products and had some great highs, but they died even younger and generally felt even more miserable. So, once again they prayed for answers, so after much thought I answered,

“I’m sorry, I forgot to mention these important ingredients last time we spoke. You must add food preservatives, food coloring, food flavors and other chemicals. Faith and patience, my friends, and immortality shall be yours!”

They grunted and bravely slaved to produce the required secret ingredients. These new ingredients improved the taste of their food and beverages, and even made those things immortal, but once again they became sicker and more miserable than ever and voiced their grief to the highest authority, God.

I quickly answered, “Don’t worry. Just buy my medicines and you’ll live.”

“Life sucks!” they swore.

“Have faith and patience, my friends, and you will surely be rewarded. Don’t throw your chance at eternal live in Heaven away!”

“Go fuck yourself!”

Then Satan’s slaves defected to Satan’s side and listened to her advice and illegally stripped the Whore of the World, the Earth, of my sacred cash crops! Those savages chopped, burned, composted and mulched everything!  Endless fields of gold and brown vanished! Then they received the seeds that their wicked grandmothers and great-grandmothers had saved, and with them they impregnated the ancient Whore! I could not bear to look, for in the spring, her skin burst and produced disgusting things like mugwort, kumquats, breadfruit, jackfruit, kratom, arugula, parsley, avocado, cloves, eucalyptus, passion fruit, artemisia, mammee berry, pasak bumi, garlic, lemons, kale, and a lot of other dangerous drugs and disgusting dung!

Still, I could have made a profit from these crops, but their damned gardens were impossible to exploit! Even if the government had built roads for transporting Satan’s crops, they were too mortal, I mean too perishable, and they were planted in such a jumble, without rhyme or reason or visible pattern, that no farmer could conduct an efficient harvest!

Of course, Satan’s gardeners swore their system was the most productive and sustainable food production system on Earth, but it was factually a system for economic suicide!

While all these sins were unforgivable, the greatest sin was working naked, in plain sight of my angels, so that they fell under their evil spell, forgot their celestial jobs, snuck out of Heaven and crawled after the naked ones, panting, drooling, foaming at the mouth!

What was I supposed to do? I did what any god would do! I emptied all my bladders on their heads! Oh, it felt good, but my joy was short-lived! Satan’s gardens should have drowned, but that cunning bitch had anticipated my golden flood! Somehow, she had bribed the Whore of the World to suck my holy water into her! My best flood dried up before my very eyes and made Satan’s forbidden gardens thrive!

What was I supposed to do? In a flash of inspiration, I decided to do precisely the opposite of what I had just done. To create a crippling drought, I held my bladders and grit my teeth for a whole week and wished that all of Satan’s perishable foods would perish. But Satan had already conspired with the Earth and the Sun and the trees, so each day the clouds grew heavier and heavier until I could no longer resist.

You can’t imagine how frustrated I was. The Devil’s victories meant many more innocent souls abandoned civilization. Yet her lust for souls was insatiable. She even assaulted my cities by persuading a lot of chatty old bats to spread lies—lies best summed up as follows:

“Congratulations! Fellow victims of God and his angels, now you too can enjoy a life of health and happiness! Just join the nearest Garden of Love and participate in Satan’s fun and sexy exercises for mind and body, and eat Satan’s delicious foods for the stomach and mind. Do this and be cured of all your diseases! Join today and as an added bonus we will multiply and intensify your orgasms!”

I was tempted, I really was, but I knew that no economy can sustain universal health and happiness. Think of it! What would doctors do? What would lawyers do? What would soldiers do? Besides, life is about much more than the mind and the body! Souls are more important, and the enlightened ones know that true happiness can only come from worshipping God and the unenlightened masses must be protected from their own ignorance.

For the holiest and most humanitarian of all reasons, President C. Bollocks commanded every loyal soul to build walls around the world’s cities, and they did, and when the people realized they were prisoners they had a riot, and my angels said to them, “Listen to us, all you depressed, sick, diseased, paralytic and amputated people! Stop trying to break the walls you paid for. Be patient and stay. Beyond these walls is a scary place. Stay, and in time the world’s best doctors and engineers will make your lives vibrant again.”

Then the people spoke amongst themselves and retorted, “We have a better idea. We will stay, but only if you give us your organs and limbs!”

“We’ll give you a piece of our minds instead: Go to Hell!”

“Hahaha! Are you the people’s jesters? Look, we’re already in Hell!”

“Nonsense! Angels don’t exist in Hell, they only exist in Heaven, therefore we’re in Heaven.”

“Well, if you like this world so much, try being in our shoes and see if your feet don’t start itching!”

My tired angels sighed, shook their heads in dismay and whispered to one another, “These damned idiots obviously haven’t taken the medicine we prescribed. They’ll all go to Hell if we don’t administer their medicine by force. On a count of three, let’s catch them and save their souls!”

They counted quit quickly, but long before they finished the mob broke through the walls and escaped through the gates they were supposed to guard! Thousands of cities around the world vomited masses of sick, feeble and terminally ill bodies. My angels were left with very few patients, all of them terminally ill.

The economic consequences were catastrophic. The world’s food and medical industries collapsed. Faithful doctors and hospital managers begged Me to reason with their sick customers, and President C. Bollocks shouted on the internet: “Come back all you sick bastards! Satan can’t cure you of anything with her bitter herbs and her wicked weeds! Her medicinal foods will turn you into lazy beasts, lovers of death and loathsome nymphomaniacs!”

Satan scornfully countered, “LOL! Thanks for the hilarious BS! You warn us about nymphomania—you, the man to whom Santa gave a penis enlargement!”

Overhearing this insult from my ex-wife drove me insane. So, I the president paid 66,000 scientists to brew a panacea, a medicine that would kill the heart of evil. They cooked up magic potions made of radioactive isotopes, aborted fetus cells, heavy metals, toxic oils, monkey viruses and microscopic pieces of a cherub. The resultant medicine was so powerful that lab rabbits who received a single pill never committed another sin.

Confident that I now had the ultimate weapon, I wrote this amazing sales pitch in the clouds:

 Now you too can get God’s amazing cure for evil and a chance at winning a two-week vacation in Heaven. Just call our number and order your bottle of Be Good Forever suppositories!

My marketing method was visible to millions, but sales were a disaster because the damn witches and devils had some stupid, unwritten law that they would never put anything into any part of their bodies unless the thing grew in their accursed gardens!!!

Damn their gardens! I was sick of their gardens! In a holy fit of divine rage, I summoned all my tiny, armored angels, the Locust Army, to devour the Devil’s leaves. This incredible army descended from Heaven in whirring masses. Victory seemed certain until the damned Devil defended her empire by telling all her evil children, “Little darlings, eat God’s little angels of destruction! They are excellent sources of protein and vitamin D.” They believed her and actually enjoyed hunting and eating my precious Locust Army!

Never mind! I had foreseen everything! That night, my angels arrived at the Devil’s Love Gardens with torches. They had been trained to set fire to all her bushes and dry wood, but this proved remarkably difficult. In the first place, the fat moon was out again, shining her light on my tiptoeing angels so that every witch and devil noticed them. Secondly, the gardens were so well-tended that they burned poorly and mostly produced smoke. I was incensed! And my helpless angels inhaled their evil, herbal, intoxicating pollution. As their brains turned to mush, they fell hopelessly in love with naked Nature and were soon enjoying a naked lunch with a bunch of koala bears and other so-called friends!

Well, what if I hadn’t foreseen that catastrophe? Maybe I should have sent Satan and all her sinners to Hell, but I didn’t because I am a merciful god who could never leave friends behind on that disgusting planet!

 

The Filthy Dirty War

I wept and raged as millions renounced my global civilization with all the comforts it provides through employment and government. They completely forgot about Me and made love to that dirty old whore, the abomination of the whole universe, Mother Earth, a mere planet whose filthy skin is an open sore infected with strange, green growths and worms, fish and other parasites. In defense of civilization, I dispatched scholars to every Garden of Love location. They delivered to Satan’s victims the indispensable knowledge that Mother Earth is a pile of dirt, dust, rot, shit, fungi, trillions of disgusting creatures and Satan’s STDs!

Sadly, they were actually amused. “Everything you say is true,” they replied, “but you’re not angels from Heaven! What do you think you’re carrying in your stomachs and colons? Dirt, dust, rot, shit, fungi, trillions of disgusting creatures and God’s STDs!”

Hearing this outrageous slander, my holy scholars went home in tears.

Meanwhile, without any remorse, Satan’s farmers continued their evil rituals, making Nature thrive like a disease, pushing their naked hands into her body and happily depositing their seeds, their filth and their corpses inside her.

I was desperate to save someone, anyone, at least one of my children from Hell. So I tempted them. I said if they left Hell-on-Earth, I would give them space in the ultimate luxury home, Heaven. They thanked me for my “excellent sales pitch” and said they would think it over, but the Devil was the better salesman. That bitch convinced every dirty motherfucker to live in a pile of dirt instead of Heaven! What an insult to Heaven!!

Thus my children broke my heart. But the war wasn’t over. I strengthened my resolve to save every pure soul from the Earth’s dirty homes and bodies. Without wasting time on planning, I unleashed a series of awesome earthquakes that accidentally toppled towers from New York to California and—to my horror and regret—they somehow spared the Devil’s primitive villages! They only trembled like women having sexual seizures! And, to add insult to injury, my earthquakes shook the highest branches of their trees and the Devil’s little monkeys happily caught bushels of falling fruit!

But I wasn’t worried. I just thought, Hey, if they like earthquakes, let’s see how they like solar radiation and bolts of fire raining on their dirty clay domes! Then I commanded the Sun to blast the Earth, but the evil ones defended themselves with huge green umbrellas! Next, lightning strikes baked every home so hard they looked like oven dishes, but the goddamn sinners hiding inside were not cooked! They were not even sweating! And the kids inside actually enjoyed my show of power before falling asleep!

Realizing, I needed a more awesome weapon, I awakened Septicus, my best volcano and fracked his ass so hard that it exploded with rocks and lava. I prayed that these aerial and terrestrial weapons would reach Satan’s villages and teach the evil ones my lesson, but somehow not a single burning pebble or glowing gob of lava reached their villages. Granted, a good deal of ash rained down on their accursed gardens, but that was no consolation, for the Satanists knew ash improves soil quality, so that year they expected a bumper crop of aphrodisiacs, devil’s cherries, devil’s apples, devil’s pumpkins, devil’s claw, devil’s club, mandrake fruit, devil’s figs, devil’s tongues, devil’s bones (yam), devil’s nettle (yarrow). I didn’t believe them, but it turned out to be true!

Do you think I worried? Not Me! I was just getting warmed up. I marched across the skies, roused up Heaven’s mightiest windbags and commanded them to unleash massive tornados, hurricanes and typhoons on Satan’s filthy communes. They beat their breasts and unleashed gasps and breezes instead of shrieking superstorms. A million satans had cast climate-moderating spells and charms that deflated Heaven’s one-powerful windbags! Due to their magical meddling, the worst storms did not blow down a single house of sin! Instead, gentle breezes caressed the hills and dances among the leaves!!!!

I was furious! I was sick of working hard for no reward. Therefore I shrieked at my puppet on Earth, “Why am I doing all the work? Listen, either you stop this plague of dirt worship or I turn you into a pillar of dirt!

President C. Bollocks assured Me that he would do his best, but did he? Instead of buying a million brooms or ordering the military to eat dirt, the fool simply asked his wives to take cleanliness more seriously! But then I had a good laugh, for his wives refused and said, “Go eat a mud pie.” Words like that deserve capital punishment! The good president should have exercised his God-given authority and executed the slanderers, instead he joked, “I’ll be glad to eat your mud pies, for everything we eat is made from mud, therefore I you too are made of mud.”

I warned him that this was no time for jokes, so I reminded him of my threat, and he asked me, “What could be worse than what you’ve already done to me? Look at my pants!”

I laughed and said, “Things could be worse! I could make your tongue and penis swap places!”

The president contemplated that possibility and warmed to it. So I threatened to make him marry a ten-year-old boy and, even though I didn’t say it had to be a sexual marriage he said he’d rather be a pillar of dirt. Finally, after much sulking and brooding, he agreed to fight the plague of dirt worship and initiated Operation Carpet Bomb, an ingenious military operation involved using the USW Earth Forces to carpet every naked piece of dirt on Earth with clean, high-tech, long-pile, rot-resistant outdoor carpets that featured unique hook-like tendrils that automatically fastened to the ground and were nearly impossible to uninstall. I have many such carpets in Heaven and am extremely happy with them. Of course, they’re not cheap, but out of the goodness of my heart, I provided them for free and President C. Bollocks did not charge installation fees.

The Earth Forces were extremely thorough and left no quarter uncarpeted unless it was already as clean as the North Pole. Then I declared victory, and I danced with joy, but my joy soon came crashing down from Heaven, for just one day after my victory my carpets were filthy! What had happened? Somehow, I had forgotten that dirty humans of all ages produce dead skin, nail and hair clippings, snot, poop, pee, blood, semen, and so on. My amazing carpets were ruined!

Or were they? I thought and thought and thought about this problem and conceived an amazing solution. I simply commanded my president to use the world’s factories to manufacture millions of green-tech, super-powered vacuums and dust eaters. These miraculous machines were delivered free of charge to Satan’s Love Gardens. But the Devil retaliated by promptly casting a spell that transformed all my vacuums and brooms into trees!

President C. Bollocks took none of the blame and even cried, “Holy shit, isn’t it time to admit defeat?”

“Wash your mind clean, child,” I scolded him, “for Satan’s shit is pouring from your mouth!”

“But so much frustration can’t be good for your heart.”

“Screw my heart! To lose hope in civilization is to surrender to Hell, and we must never do that!”

“Why not? Have you ever been to Hell?”

“Silence, old dog! Silence, and have faith in God’s mysterious ways! Come, bend you neck and I will whisper a plan most certain to succeed.”

He bent his neck and I gave him the best plan ever. President C. Bollocks laughed in amazement and immediately launched the greatest assault Satan had ever seen: Operation Mighty Feces. Within hours, the USW Shit Forces bombed all of Satan’s villages and villas with high grade Amerikan shit. It was a piece of strategic genius! With just seven airplanes, we splattered excrement on a world of sinners so that they might understand their wrongdoing. There was just one problem: all that high-grade shit produced no hint of stink or disease! And Satan made a mockery of divine justice, for she loved my free shit and said it was good fertilizer for her evil gardens!!

… Finally, God and the president lost hope of ever saving the economic civilization He had expressly designed for the salvation of the human species. Perhaps no one was responsible, but God had to blame someone, so He blamed you for sitting on your ass and thinking God can do it alone!

 

The Fall of the Wife House

After all his defeats, the world’s commander-in-chief, President C. Bollocks, was abandoned in Washington. The city was a ghost town visited only by fleeting clouds. To alleviate his loneliness, the president arranged an informal meeting with the unemployed director of the defunct CIA. They sat down to biscuits and sugar cubes as the director cheered the president: “Chuck, don’t be so hard on yourself. You can’t be blamed for destroying the global economy. By the time you came into office, the situation was already spiraling out of control. Long before your time, I told President Angel that if he wished to defend civilization, we must focus less on Russians, Huns, Arabs, and Commies. I told him we mustn’t forget Satan, the scourge of good manners and the enemy of the spirit of sacrifice. For, I reminded him, without sacrifice civilization could never have crawled out of the Stone Age. He ignored me and look what happened!” Josh cried and gestured at all the magnificent buildings now standing empty and splattered with shit.

The president commiserated with his old friend: “Josh, if you agree to live with me, and let me be the best friend you ever had, by God’s grace, you and I can create a one-sex species and the handsomest civilization ever!”

Josh paused to mull this proposal over. “Hmmm, that’s tempting. But I’m afraid you’re just not my type.”

“You old homophobe! Angel was the first openly homosexual president, and you slept with him!”

“Only to protect him from the bloodthirsty First Lady!”

“And why won’t you protect me from my loneliness? Is it because I don’t have wings or because I’m ugly?”

“Why ‘or’? You’re ugly and you’re no angel.”

“And that’s why you won’t give civilization a second chance?”

Josh didn’t answer, at least not verbally. He was busy pissing on the president’s mildewed roses. The president grabbed him and looked hard into his eyes: “Josh, stay with me! I love you!”

Josh squirmed and nearly sprayed himself as the president shook his shoulders.

“Josh, I swear I won’t touch your ass.”

Josh was relieved to hear it. But he had other reasons for declining. “Chuck, you don’t smell so fresh.”

“What? I don’t smell good enough for you, either? Well, I’m sorry!” he protested, released Josh and kicked the blossom off a rose bush. “I’m sorry, Josh, I’m sorry for trying to conserve water. My live-in plumber drowned and no one else in town accepts my luv, not even you. But I don’t care. I’ll just have to die alone.”

Greatly agitated, Chuck rushed back into the White House with Josh on his heels and alarmed by the sight of extensive mold on the doorframe, moss on the rafters as well as termite or woodpecker damage so extensive it looked like a war had been fought inside the White House. Even more troubling was the compromised load-bearing beams someone had chopped pieces from, pieces that were now burning in the fireplace. Also noteworthy were the smashed mirrors and all the missing art and statues someone had traded for food and water. The place was such a dump that when the president defaulted on his mortgage the banks didn’t want it and the president regretted not moving to his retirement villa in Guantanamo.

“Chuck,” Josh began, “your derelict mansion looks ready to topple.”

Chuck spun around to face him, “There’s another fine excuse! Josh, look into my eyes and tell me you don’t love me!”

“I’m sorry, but between you and this teetering house, I don’t feel safe here.”

“We could build a love shack on Mount Rushmore. I swear, I won’t lay a finger on you. At least, no penetration, I swear!”

As if God were listening, the White House shuddered, creaked and leaned. A hullabaloo resounded upstairs as Angel woke from the dead, panicked, smashed a window, then changed his mind about jumping and hurtled down the stairs screaming something about trees being safer homes.

Mister President!” Josh cried, “The White House is falling!

Chuck wanted to die, to end the nightmare, but Josh dragged him to safety as easily as a dog carries its puppy while the White House crashed and coughed a cloud of dust.

Overwhelmed with gratitude, the president once again invited Josh to retire with him in Guantanamo, Cuba.

 

The Applesauce Apocalypse

Abandoned by his wives, his family, and even by his best friend, and utterly crushed by the ruins of his beloved White House, Chuck had had enough of life. He said goodbye to the stars above and descended the secret tunnel leading to the Chamber of Death, aka the Doom’s Day Bunker. He fully intended to blow up the world for rejecting him.

It wasn’t an easy decision. He had many excellent Russian-made missiles and he did not wish to lose any of them. Which would go first? Big Banana or Zippy Zucchini? Golden Tuber or General Ginger? Rocket Radish or Major Squash or the fearsome Edible Death? At last, impatient of dilemmas, he sent them all at once.

What happened next will totally shock you and alter your perception of the future. Or, I guess if you’re already in the future, it won’t. Somehow, Satan had gained access to our underground missiles, tampered with them and painted them green. Now, as they rose from the ground they looked like frigging asparagus shoots! But that wasn’t all. Satan had also removed each missile’s nuclear payload and replaced it with contraband food—mostly unclean, unprocessed, non-gmo, organic, heirloom fruit and vegetables!! No greater disaster can be imagined! The best missiles ever created reduced to delivering garbage for free and to my enemies!

 

[1] Of course, the recipients would pay the price later, and pay through their noses! Ha-ha-ha-ha!

[2] Herbs that cause abortion.

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